Babies and Chicken Noodle Soup
by taintedtruffle
Summary: a series of unconnected one shots, 1st 1-Marla has the flu and Jack and Tyler take care of her. 2nd 1-story inspired by the line "I want to have your abortion."
1. Ch1: Chicken noodle soup

This is a series of one shots between Marla and Jack. I tried to follow the style of the movie so this isn't written with my normal style I don't think. I hav e a few more one shots in mind, should I put em up individually or put it up all as a group?

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This one takes place after Tyler and Marla have started going out but before he starts filling the house with space monkeys.

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The flu

You know how back in high school you had that one person you absolutely hated? Maybe you didn't have a reason, there was just something about them The one you tried to avoid, wished they would just move away one day and you knew if they did you'd be happy. Only they didn't move away. Instead you'd constantly pass them in the halls. You'd go to your locker. That persone'd be there.

You'd go to the cafeteria; ready to sample whatever culinary disaster they had today. You'd be standing in line and look behind you.

There they where.

You'd get your new class schedule and head off hoping to make new friends but guess who'd be sitting next to you. I don't have to say it. You get the idea.

Well that's the way it was with Marla. First it was my support groups. Than it was home, than Tyler, my best friend. It wasn't just there either. I would run in to her everywhere.

The record store? Shed be there smiling and showing me the "Snoop" CD she was getting.

The grocery store? She was there.

The thrift store? Turns out she got a job there. Should have figured as much with the way she dresses.

One place I never would have expected to see her was the library. But, as I sat there, thumbing through pages of an old book I hoped would show me how to fix a leak at the house I saw her. She walked in and plopped down in one of the cat scented, hand me down armchairs scattered about the room. I didn't say anything and she didn't seem to notice.

She kept coughing and sneezing and I glared at her over my book each time she made a sound. What was she doing in here? She hadn't even bothered to pick a book and pretend to read. She was sitting in the chair sideways; both her legs tossed over one armrest and head lolling over the other. I couldn't see her eyes behind those large praying mantis glasses but I'm sure they are closed. Maybe she's dead?

No. She sprung to her feet and made a rush for the bathroom. Ten minutes later I see her come out, walking unsteadily back to the chair she was sitting in. With in the next forty minutes she doses this three times until finally curiosity gets the better of me.

"What are you doing?" I ask louder than necessary. The gray haired lady behind the desk glares up over her prehistoric computer.

"Tyler?" She raises her glasses to look at me.

I glare at her. She must be really high to get me confused with Tyler. Before I can retort that she should get her eyes checked she falls down into the chair next to me. "Ugh," She groans, looking at me with half lidded eyes. "I feel like shit."

"Look like it too." I can't help it. Having this woman around brings out the worst in me.

She opens her eyes looks at me, a sad look in those doe eyes. Why dose she always seem so surprised when I make comments like that? I'm never nice to her.

"You sick?" I ask. I don't really care, do I?

She nods dully before plopping her head down into her folded arms.

"So what are you doing here?" Last time I checked library's weren't the key place to hang out when your ill.

"My heaters out at my apartment." She shivers. "Plus my neighbor keeps coming over asking to borrow my dresses at all hours."

"Tell her to get her own clothes."

"He. It's a dude, I-" She takes off running for the bathroom and I stand as soon as the door shuts. I could run out of here and pretend I never saw her but I don't. Instead I'm still standing here, hand trailing over the aged wood on the back of my chair. She comes out of the bathroom looking even paler than normal with a shaky hand resting on her large forehead.

She makes it half way over to the chair before she stumbles, front of one big, clunky shoe catching the back of the other. She has ugly shoes on every time I see her. I think its some vain attempt to make herself taller but it doesn't really work. Anyone who sees her can obviously see it's the six-inch platforms.

Anyways she stumbles and starts to fall forward and I catch her without thinking. My reflexes are much quicker since I've started fight club. I don't even realize what I'm doing until she's in my arms blinking up at me with a dazed look on her face. Damn. Now she's going to think I'm being nice to her.

She opens her mouth to speak and I mentally prepare a biting retort. I never get to use it though cause I'm am than showered in rancid smelling vomit. I glare at her and she barley manages to stutter an apology. Stupid woman really is sick.

I pull her into the men's bathroom and yank off my puke covered shirt, stuffing it in the sink and running water over it.

"Clean your self up." I mumble, grabbing a fist full of brown paper towels, soaking 'em with water and toss them haphazardly in Marla's direction. She catches them, wiping at her own face. She drops her purse to the ground followed by her sunglasses. Her sullied shirt and jacket are stuffed in the sink beside me. She only gets half way through before she's emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

I finish with my shirt and pull the soggy thing back on, moving over to her clothes as well. She stands propped against the pealing door jam. "Lets get out of here." She mumbles. I haven't heard her voice that weak since the night she tried to overdose on Xanax.

I nod and she gatherers her stuff, leaning against me as we make our way out of the bath room. The librarian is glaring at us and I can tell she wants to say something but she doesn't. No one ever really says what they want to.

I don't have a car and neither dose Marla so it's either wait for the bus or start walking. We opt for waiting for the bus. Half and hour later I'm staring off into space and Marla's fallen to sleep on the bench. At least she's stopped ralphing.

I grab her by the arm, pulling her onto the bus. Twenty minutes later we're being dropped off at the end of Paper Street and the bus floor has been given a new color.

"I think I got the flu." She mumbles. I nod, pulling her along. I'll take her home and Tyler can take care of her. "Mickey at my work had it." She sneezes loudly, not even bothering to cover her mouth. I edge away as far as I can, I hope I don't catch this or I'm gonna be pissed.

The chilly November air blows and we both shiver in our wet clothes.

We get in the house and she plops down on the couch as I head up to the second floor, looking for Tyler. I don't see him anywhere. Great. Just great.

I peal off my clothes and grab a fresh outfit from my dresser. With a sigh I grab the smallest pair of pants and shirt I can find for Marla. As I'm heading back down the steps I wonder wither Marla keeps any clothes here. Maybe in Tyler's room?

I toss the clothes on top of a rickety old table in the halfway and move towards his room. My hand hesitates on the door. I've never been in Tyler's room. You know the way you feel the first time your about to look in your parents closet to see Christmas presents? That's the way I feel now. Butterflies are doing nascar laps in my stomach and I look over my shoulder three times before turning the knob.

"What are you doing?" Tyler is suddenly beside me like some sort of magic trick. How dose he do that.

"I was looking for clothes for Marla. She's in the living room."

"Humm." He reaches out for my hand on his door, taking it in his soft ones, pulling me away. "There's nothing of hers in there. What you have's fine." He picks up the clothes I set down and heads down the steps, whistling the 'Brady Bunch' theme song to himself. I yawn, suddenly exhausted as I head into my room, falling to sleep almost as soon as my head touches the pillow.

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"Hey." Tyler greets as he steps into the living room.

"Hey." Marla echoes. He moves towards her, dropping the bundle he had been carrying down beside. "Brought you some clean cloths."

"I see that." She mumbles, sitting up, tugging at the strings of her boots first. She sighs in frustration after a few minutes and leans back against the couch. Tyler smirks, sitting down on the floor and setting to work at the knots.

"I'll make some chicken noodle soup for dinner." Tyler said as he tossed her left shoe behind him and moved to the right one.

"My Great grandma Iris used to make me chicken soup when ever I was sick." She mumbled as she pulls her soggy shirt and bra off, tossing them both to the floor. "I was thinking about it today. I would _kill_ for some of her soup about now." Her skirt joins the pile and she's left sitting on the couch in her purple under wear and a pair of striped orange and black socks.

Tyler tugs off one of the socks, kissing her calf and working his way up to her knee. "Well where is she?" He asks. "We'll just have to get some of this soup."

"She died five years ago." Marla breaks into a coughing fit that quickly changes into a wave of nauseas and she takes off for the bathroom, one foot still socked.

Tyler stands and heads into the kitchen. He returns placing a bucket next to the couch and reaching down, ruffling through her purse until he gives a smile, pulling out her cell phone. Well track phone but it's the same thing all in all.

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"Can you cook?" I'm woken up by Tyler's face only inches from mine asking me this.

"huh?" His words don't process but I sit up looking at his handsome face.

"Can you cook?" He says these words slowly and deliberately the way slow kids parents must talk to them.

"Yea. I guess so, why?" A piece of paper is stuffed into my hands. I look down puzzled at the car dealership add now in my hands. Tyler shakes his head I amusement at my confusion before flipping the paper over. Scrawled over the back in Tyler's flowing handwriting is what looks like a recipe.

"Step one: Place in large pot one quart water, two table spoons vegetable oil, two onions chopped, three carrots cut in thin slices, three celery ribs, thin slices, and heat over medium heat for ten to fifteen minutes. Stir occasionally" I look up at my best friend. "What is this?"

"That-" He pokes the paper "Is chicken noodle soup which I need you to make. I'm heading out or I would do it myself." He stands and leaves calling back over his shoulder. "I bought the ingredients, there in the kitchen."

I sigh as I stand, reading over the recipe with idle curiosity. This'll take almost two and a half hours to cook?! I shake my head, amused. Tyler had better enjoy this soup.

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Ok. First step is done, I look at the paper again. "Step two: Cut a six-seven pound chicken into eight pieces, include bones, drop in soup. Also add two quarts chicken broth, one can un-drained corn, four sprigs fresh parsley (do not separate parsley! Leave as clump!) half a teaspoon of dried thyme and one bay leaf. (Leave leaf whole) bring to a boil until foam appears, skim off foam and reduce to a simmer for two hours. Continue to skim and discard foam."

My first thought after reading that is 'what the hells a sprig?' I end up throwing in the whole cluster of green plants in a paper bag labeled "parsley" I follow the rest of the instructions than head into the living room to find the National Geographic I had been reading.

There she is on the couch, sprawled out on her stomach, legs spread and arms folded beneath her chin. She's wearing only my shirt and purple panties. Something about that sight causes a certain part of me to instantly jump to attention.

I shake my head, disgusted with my self. This is Marla were talking about. The horrible, vile woman who invaded my support groups, my home, my Tyler-wait, not my Tyler, I mean my _best friend_ Tyler. I wont let her invade my mind as well!

Glaring I toss a blanket over this perversing sight and leave the room with my magazine crumpling in my angry grip.

Two hours later I'm ready for the next step "Take the chicken out of the pot and set aside to cool. Remove and throw out the parsley and bay leaf. Let stand five minutes until fat has gathered at the top, discard fat."

I smile as this, instantly reminded of soap making with Tyler. He wouldn't want this fat. He'd told me before chicken fat is too salty to make soap.

"Continue to do this every five minutes for fifteen minutes. Stir each time. The chicken should be cool now. Pull it off the bone and cut into smallest pieces you can. Toss them back in the soup." I turn from the oven to the counter where I left the chicken to find Tyler already slicing it quickly and expertly.

As usual I never heard him enter.

His hands move quickly and surely. I cant help but stare, watching as his strong hands work. It isn't until the chicken is cut in tiny little squares I actually look up. He smirks knowingly at me.

"Never seen a real man at work in the kitchen before?"

"Shut up." I snap, embarrassed at how I'd been staring. "What are you doing here? I thought you had something you where supposed to be doing."

"I do. I came back for something I needed." He dropped the knife and it stuck, point down in the counter.

"Did you know in ancient Egypt chicken sop was prescribed as medicine?"

"No.' I wonder where he learns all his facts. I'm the one always reading, never him.

"Chao." He says. I turn to drop the chicken in the soup and when I turn to grab the next handful he's gone.

Ive just finished the last step: "add noodles and cook 10 minutes" when I hear foot steps behind me.

"Somethinng smells good." Marlas voice mumbles as she steps into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes.. She looks at the recipe on the counter than back up at me, anime eyes shining with moisture.

Marla Singer with her messy black hair and smudged eyeliner. Marla who ruined what little comfort I had in my life suddenly smiles at me and throws her arms around me. " You made my great grandma's soup?!" She gasps grinning. "Thank you!" She sounds about as happy as if I had given her a gold egg.

'If gold eggs where real they'd probably be heavy.' I think as she continues to hug me. She's saying something else but I'm not paying attention. 'You'd probably always know what goose was gonna lay a golden egg cause it probably wouldn't be able to fly'

I tune back in on what Marla's saying just in time to hear "That was so sweet of you!!"

I tell her it wasn't me, it was Tyler. She just shakes her head in an amused sort of way, stifling a sneeze between her hand than grinning again.

"I would kiss you if I wasn't so sure it'd make you sick"

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ok, random nonsense but there so isn't enough fan fics up for this movie, it is an awesome movie too! Oh and btw: that is a real recipe. It taste good! Please comment!


	2. Ch2: I want to have your abortion

authors notes : (1) I didn't feel like digging out the movie so if the quotes are off don't blame me, I used the script as ref

authors notes : (1) I didn't feel like digging out the movie so if the quotes are off don't blame me, I used the script as reference (2) sorry about the cussing but I'm trying to keep them in character. (3) This is a one shot, please understand that and don't ask me to continue it. (4) this is random, it dose not link in with any other story im writing

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"Jack" I winced at the voice I heard on the other end of the phone. Damn! Why did I answer it?!

"Yes?" I managed to mumble into the phone.

"I-I need to talk to you." I glare at the phone. Why dose she sound so upset?

"I'm not checking you for any other type of cancer."

"No, no, I just want to talk-please."

"Fine." I don't know what makes me agree. "I'll be there later."

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"Thanks for coming." Marla mumbles.

"Whatever."

She flops down on her bed, face down. "Sit." She mumbles into the bedspread.

No.

I'd rather not.

Instead I circle around to the side she's facing and sit down in front of her.

"Can we hurry this up? I have places to be."

"No you don't." She rolls over so her head is hanging upside down off the edge of the bed.

"What is it."

"I . . ."

She looks at me. Her face almost looks like it could be guilty.

"Yes?"

"I'm pregnant."

Oh.

Wow.

Dose Tyler knows? I would just ask out right but there's his whole 'don't mention him' thing.

"Who else knows? " I ask after some thought. That questions benign enough.

"No one."

"Can I- tell my friends?" Friend of course being Tyler.

"Sure. Have fun." Which of course means better I tell him than she dose.

We sit in silence for a while, each lost in there own thoughts.

"So.. what are you gonna do?" I ask finally.

"I don't know."

"Oh."

More silence hangs through the room. I don't know how to ask the next question with out saying his name.

Fine. I'll say it.

How would he know anyways?

"Didn't you say you wanted to have Tyler's abortion?"

"Marla says a lot of things." She mumbles. "Marla doesn't mean half of what she says."

Why did this conversation just turn third person? "Marla's not joking now is she?" I ask.

She shakes her head, rolling over and burying her face in her bed spread.

"You don't have to decide now." I state. Maybe she wants time to talk this over with Tyler?

"I know." She smiles at me.

Why? I didn't do anything.

She grins outright, kissing me on the fore head. I don't bother to glare, I just leave the room.

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"She's what?!" Tyler yells, punching the wall. With as angry as he is I'm surprised he didn't make a dent in it.

"Hey, don't kill the messenger."

Tyler's ignoring me, pacing and cursing.

"She's not keeping it!"

"I don't know."

"NO! No! Tell her she's not keeping it!"

"Why don't you tell her?" God, I'm sick of being there little carrier pigeon.

"Tell her, NOW!" He stomps up the stairs and slams the door. I hate it when he's like this.

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"Marla."

"Hey Tyler."

"Is being an ass."

Marla gives me a weird confused look but doesn't say anything. I sit down on her bed, she sits next to me.

"You decided what to do?"

"No."

"There's always adoption."

"Mm." She looks at me, big brown eyes locking on mine. She's been thinking about this a lot.

"Yes?"

"What do you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think." I feel a strange desire to show some affection and end up settling for mussing her hair. "This is all up to you." And I'm not telling her what Tyler said either.

"Thanks." She smiles at me, this time pulling me in as big a bear hug she can with those skinny little arms.

I stand ready to leave and she calls out. "Wait. Tell me something."

"What?"

"If-if I keep it, would you help me take care of it?"

"Yea. Sure." I can babysit once in a while.

"I'm glad." She doesn't say anything else so I turn and leave.

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"What are you doing?" I wake up to find Marla at the end of the couch reading some book.

"Can you give me a ride?"

"Where to?"

She looks at me sheepishly, her eyes are red. "The abortion clinic-I, I think I decided."

"Yea. Ok."

Neither of us say anything the whole ride over. "Just wait here, ok?" She mumbles. Fine. I don't know how long the line is or how long it takes so I wait patiently for forty minutes until she comes back in to the car.

She's crying, I want to say something to her, anything to cheer her up. "Wanna get something to eat?"

She nods, I pull in to McDonalds. She hasn't said 2 words and I don't blame her. I get 2 drinks, 2 cheese burgers and 2 ice cream cones. Neither of us end up eating tough and the ice cream ends up melting all over our hands and the car. Doesn't matter, cars apiece of crap anyways.

I drop her off at her apartment and I cant help but be puzzled as I drive home. I had nothing to do with it, why do I feel like its such a loss?

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Fast forward a month. Me and tyler where in a car crash with 2 of the monkeys, I cant find him. I wonder the halls sad and alone.

I end up standing in the garden lost in thought when I see her walking up to me.

I haven't talked to her since that day, I don't know why for some reason just thinking about her makes me depressed. "He's not here!" I snap before she can say anything.

"What?"

"He's not here! Tyler's not here anymore! He's gone away!" I bark. She looks at me, those big doe eyes so round and sad. I turn away and listen to her footsteps walk away.

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God.

Oh my god. I sit up and look around the hotel room.

I'm Tyler?! How is this possible?

Sunlight is streaming through the window. It was night when I was talking to him. What's happened since then?

What has he done with Marla?

Marla!

If I'm Tyler that means – than was my baby?!

I suddenly understand why I felt so upset, so angry.

I've got to get home. I might not have been much support to her but at least I can protect her from Tyler. It's the least I could do.

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Were standing here, still staring out the window long after the dust settles. Were safe up here. The silence hangs somberly between us until its broken by marla's wisperd:

"I didn't do it."

I know she didn't. Tyler blew up these buildings, why would she even feel she has to defend herself.

"I know." I smile at her. "You wouldn't have any idea how to make dynamite, would you?"

She looks at me with that perpetually present look of confusion. "What?" She shakes her head, "No, I mean I didn't go through with it."

Its my turn to be confused.

"I sat in the waiting room for what seemed like forever and kept looking through those old magazines and when I finally want back in to that room I freaked. I couldn't go through with it."

Oh. Oh! She means- "Your still-?" I can't believe it.

Marla nods. "I wanted to tell you but you where avoiding me."

I don't know what to say, and settle for the only thing that comes to mind. "Sorry."

"Your not mad?"

No, "hell no." I grab her , pulling her close for our first kiss.Well, let me refraise that, the first time ive kissed her as Jack.

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Its been five months and here we are. Marla smiles up at me and I grin down at her.

"She's beautiful babe." I reach out, patting the blond little head.

"Yea, look at that hair. Your side of the family?"

No. I shake my head; both my parents had brown hair.

As if she can tell were talking about her the little girl opens her eyes, blinking up at us. "Awww, look how blue they are!" Marla coos. "What should we name her?"

I don't have to think. "Tyler."


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